


The Art of Dating a Rich Man Snippet - Sakura and Madara's Past (I want you to be free/Release)

by moor



Series: The Art of Dating a Rich Man [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Consensual Sex, Doing the Right Thing, F/M, Longing, MadaSaku Week 2020, Medical/Lawyer AU, Modern AU, Pre-TAoDaRM, Romance, Sakura and Madara's past, Sex, Smut, TAoDaRM prequel, The Art of Dating a Rich Man AU, University AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23266342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moor/pseuds/moor
Summary: MadaSaku. The past.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Madara
Series: The Art of Dating a Rich Man [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1340344
Comments: 52
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Thank you for the inspiration @yomi-gaeru (and The Tea Party)!
> 
> https://yomi-gaeru.tumblr.com/post/158744174486/i-wish-these-two-have-sex-right-nowlike  
> https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/2328470  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7fF-MXP1iVU
> 
> AN: This snippet is part of the larger Chapter 7 and is posted for MadaSaku Week 2020 on tumblr (@madasakuweek). As other parts of the story are not written/ready yet, I am separating this portion out to post and will amalgamate it into the full TAoDaRM Chapter 7 when the rest of the chapter is ready. (FYI, the music link has a huge spoiler for TAoDaRM... So.... listen at your own risk?)

# Sakura and Madara - Meeting

Madara looked up from his place at the head of the Uchiha clan’s private dining room at _Le Marché_. The trio of young adults who had arrived were friendly with each other, and certainly one of them, Sasuke, was Clan, but the other two were not. With their bright hair and egregious manners—from both ends of the spectrum—they did not fit in with the rest of those gathered for Sasuke’s birthday. He was about to ask the room attendant to politely escort them out when he saw his half-sister, Mikoto, rise to welcome them warmly to the main table. Fugaku’s frown remained but softened as he was greeted with a small hug by the young woman of the group, and she placed a small gift on the table in front of him. 

Madara’s brow furrowed. Outsiders doting and being doted upon?

He hadn’t realized he was staring until vibrant green eyes looked up and held his, surprised, then confidently, before returning to her seat between Itachi and Sasuke at the table.

Blinking, Madara turned back to the guests at his own table. When was the last time someone had looked at him so plainly, without anger, fear, or intimidation?

“They were Sasuke’s friends,” explained Mikoto the next day when Madara went by for tea. “They’ve been joined at the hip since preschool. They’ve been at all the family gatherings we’ve had for Sasuke before,” said Mikoto. A tray of fruit lay between them in her home. Gray had begun to tint strands of her hair, and crow’s feet hinted at the corners of her eyes, but her calm loveliness shone through. “You never noticed because we usually had to corral them away to keep them out of trouble,” she added with a small smile. “Especially that Naruto,” she chuckled. “Sakura keeps them all in line.”

Madara nodded, drinking his tea.

“Sakura’s applying for med school currently while Sasuke applies for law. MCAT and LSAT exams have them all stressed, but I think they’re going to be just fine. Naruto has made sure they take breaks,” said Mikoto.

“I hadn’t realized Sasuke associated with non-clan members,” said Madara.

“You couldn’t separate that trio if you tried,” said Mikoto. “And that kind of bond isn’t a bad thing.”

“Not if the young woman enters medical school,” agreed Madara. 

Mikoto looked at her younger half-brother, her eyes hooded. “You would see it that way.”

Madara cocked his head at the faint disappointment in Mikoto’s tone. 

“There is more to life than business,” said Mikoto. 

“I have friends,” said Madara, slightly offended.

“You have a friend,” she challenged, though her tone was teasing. “And no one’s ever been able to figure out how you put up with each other.”

Frowning, Madara picked up another slice of fruit so he wouldn’t have to answer his older sister. 

“Open yourself up to more, ‘dara,” advised Mikoto, smiling at him in gentle, fond exasperation. “There are benefits.”

“I’ve never lacked benefits,” said Madara.

“Hn, but these benefits stick around instead of having their fill and leaving in the morning,” quipped Mikoto, rising to her feet. “More tea?”

“Burn,” muttered Madara childishly, leaning back in his seat. He was not pouting.

“Stop sulking,” said Mikoto a moment later, returning with her tea. “And just so you know, there’s more to the bond with the kids. We’ve unofficially adopted Sakura and Naruto. They’re as close to Clan as possible without marrying in.”

As Mikoto swirled the teapot to stir the brew, she looked down at the table as if to prevent any spills, not that there was any risk. She hadn’t spilled tea in any form in years. But she did so now, in a way, to help her brother understand. Perhaps it would open his eyes.

“You remember the accident, of course, when President Namikaze and his wife passed away?”

Madara nodded then his eyes widened. Mikoto nodded.

“Naruto is their son. He is the only survivor from the crash,” said Mikoto. “He and Sasuke are as close as blood brothers. Itachi has also guided Naruto, on occasion. With mixed results…”

Mikoto relaxed her expression as she poured more tea for them. The scent of green tea and jasmine wafted around them.

“Sakura lost her parents during her last year of high school,” continued Mikoto, quietly. “They were very good people. Very generous. Sakura took it very hard.”

“Siblings?” asked Madara. 

Mikoto shook her head. “She is alone.”

“And she is aiming for medical school? Did she inherit much?”

“Some,” said Mikoto. “Her parents passed away when their home burned down. Sakura was here that evening, for Itachi’s birthday party. She was helping me since his wilder friends from university had shown up. We had no idea about the fire until the police arrived on the doorstep.”

The cup in Madara’s hand slowed on its way to his lips. “She and Naruto made it through school, however.”

Mikoto wrapped her hands around her own cup. “Naruto received the rest of his inheritance when he turned eighteen. Sakura has had some funds, but her family wasn’t able to leave her much. She has worked to put herself in school. She’s a very strong young woman.”

“I had no idea,” murmured Madara. That Sasuke had friends with such devastating pasts, it was a revelation to him. Sasuke had always been spoiled, and Madara had disliked him at times as he grew and matured, seeing too much of himself in the young man. 

Now, though, to find out that the patience and compassion Madara had occasionally witnessed in Sasuke probably had developed after his friends’ tragedies, it shed new light on their little trio.

“Sakura isn’t sure how she’s going to make ends meet yet for medical school, but she’s always been intelligent. Itachi has been helping her research scholarships.”

Madara nodded, his thoughts his own.

“More tea?” asked Mikoto a few minutes later.

“Thank you,” answered Madara. “I’ll be off.”

* * *

“A new scholarship opened up at Konoha University’s medical program,” remarked Mikoto to her husband at dinner. She passed a bowl of salad around the table. 

Sasuke’s ears perked up as he straightened in his seat. His fingers paused in replying to Naruto’s text. 

Fugaku nodded from behind the newspaper he read. “Really? That’s unusual.”

“Hm, it has to do with financial need, community involvement, and academic performance,” continued Mikoto. “Madara was telling me about it.”

“Uncle Madara?” asked Itachi, surprised. “A medical scholarship, not law? How would he... Then again, he has acquaintances in the medical field. Perhaps that’s how he knows.”

“Hn,” said Fugaku, watching his wife out of the corner of his eye as he read the paper. 

“Well, I thought it was a very positive development,” said Mikoto. “Don’t you? Oh, but the deadline for application is very soon.”  
  
Sasuke and Itachi froze in their seats, glancing at each other.

“When?” asked Itachi casually.

“Tonight at midnight. I’m not sure how many applicants there will be, but—”

Itachi and Sasuke had both grabbed their phones and were texting madly.

“—I’m sure it will go to someone worthy,” finished Mikoto pleasantly.

Her husband looked at her knowingly, a small, proud smile fleeting across his lips.

“Ah,” agreed Fugaku, turning the page on the newspaper.

“I have a lot of work to do,” said Sasuke suddenly, rising with his plate of salad.

“As do I,” said Itachi, catching his brother’s eye. "Excuse us."

“Thank you for supper,” they said in unison, hurrying to the study with their plates. A moment later, the garage door opened and Sasuke was reversing the family station wagon out to the street, tires squealing as he floored the gas pedal.

The dining room was silent for a moment as Itachi hurriedly warmed up the computer in the study and Mikoto casually drizzled vinaigrette over her salad, humming to herself. Fugaku bit his bottom lip and mentally counted down until he heard Itachi’s sock feet padding back to the dining room in a rush.

“Madara didn’t happen to mention where the application criteria was listed for that scholarship, did he?”

“Alumni Website, Donors, Community Support, Financial Need and Special Interests, click ‘ok’ twice on the pop-under windows—”

“Pop-unders?” repeated Itachi.

“—yes, pop-unders, the ones that show up behind the main browser window,” said Mikoto, “and type in code ‘merit’ in the bottom-right search bar,” said Mikoto, reaching for the carafé of red wine. “Fugaku?”

“Thank you,” said Fugaku, nudging his glass closer to his devious wife.

“Thank you,” said Itachi, hurrying back to the study.

Twenty minutes later Sasuke hustled Sakura through the house, barely allowing her to greet his parents— _”Hi Mr and Mrs Uchiha!” “Good evening, dear”_ —before she was shoved into the study.

Still seated beside his wife at the dining room table, Fugaku turned the page of his newspaper.

“So, Madara was by earlier this week for tea, I hear,” Fugaku remarked.

“Hn, yes, we caught up for a bit,” said Mikoto, taking a sip of her wine.

Fugaku turned another page of his newspaper, his grin subtle but present. Beside him, Mikoto relaxed in her seat as the boys and Sakura excitedly worked on her application.

“Midnight is a bit close,” said Fugaku.

“If they want it badly enough, they’ll make it work,” said Mikoto confidently.

(They did.)

* * *

Madara’s suit jacket hung on a hanger in the closet of his personal office. In his vest with his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, Madara looked up at the knock on his office door. 

That was odd. 

It was after hours and he hadn’t expected any visitors. His administrative staff had left hours ago, and it was now close to nine. Even the junior members of the firm would have left to return home for the evening. His stomach rumbled as he realized he’d forgotten to eat, again. With a sigh, Madara wondered if Hashirama would still be at work, too. His favourite Chinese bar and restaurant was open late. Hnnn...

Rising to his feet, Madara went to open the heavy oak door.

He was surprised to find Sasuke standing in the wood-paneled hallway, dressed in casual clothes with his knapsack slung over one shoulder. Itachi, in his usual dark wool suit, stood beside him, still in his wingtips.

Madara said nothing, waiting them out.

Sasuke huffed, looking up at his uncle. He held out a hand-addressed letter.

“This is for you.”

“It’s from Sakura. She doesn’t know that you are the donor, but she made us promise to find out and deliver this,” added Itachi. 

“Hn,” said Madara, accepting the letter. He looked at the pair of brothers. “I understand you’re still studying for the LSATs,” he said to Sasuke, who nodded. “Good. We expect you to place very well after Itachi’s tutoring. It wouldn’t do for you to join the firm as a charity case.”

Sasuke’s expression hardened, and Madara saw Itachi’s fingers gently squeeze his brother’s shoulders.

“There is no need for concern,” said Itachi calmly. His poker face had always been impeccable, something Madara had appreciated when he hired Itachi. If Madara was honest with himself, he would admit that Itachi’s composure in a courtroom outmatched Izuna’s. Itachi knew it, too, but focused on his own cases instead of poking his nose where he shouldn’t. He was a very smart young man.  
Madara kept an eye on Itachi. He would be very useful to them later.

“Good. Anything further?”

“No. Thank you, Uncle,” said Itachi. Beside him, Sasuke nodded, lips tight.

“Good evening,” said Madara, turning away from them and closing the door. Itachi would lock up after them, he had no concerns there. 

Seated again at his desk, Madara set the card aside—it was purely out of courtesy, and he was pleased she had made the effort of course, but really, there was no actual value to it—and turned back to the brief he’d been reviewing prior to the interruption.

Half an hour later he had put on his suit jacket, fixing the buttons, then slipped on his Burberry. Hashirama was meeting him for supper.

As Madara pocketed his cellphone, his hand passed over his desk and paused. When he closed and locked the door of his office behind him, a small envelope sat tucked in his breast pocket. 

* * *

“Student auction?” asked Mikoto.

The Uchiha family dinner table had been extended with two leafs beneath the table cloth that night, there were so many members present. Several members were away at the office due to a pressing case—Izuna and Itachi among them—but Madara had joined the table at Mikoto’s insistence. (“You would only annoy the boys at the office,” she had scolded him. “Let them work in peace.”)

Madara looked up, curious.

“I thought they banned them,” Madara said. He remembered some particularly… damaging activities had occurred during his undergrad days at the last of the auctions. 

“They’re tentatively reinstating them as a fundraiser,” said Sakura, offering the tomato-basil-bocconcini platter to Sasuke. “They’ve set some pretty clear guidelines. And the students are excited. You’re allowed to write down your skills and what you will and won’t do when you volunteer, so ‘buyers’ can choose based on those.”

“Didn’t it border on human trafficking before?” asked Fugaku drily.

“There’s a ‘No Nudes or Exploitation’ rule this time,” said Sasuke.

“I don’t want you participating,” said Fugaku to Sasuke.

“It’s volunteer experience,” said Sakura. “It’s not all bad. Some students are also approaching businesses for paid internships, with the funds going to the charity.”

“Some businesses are also sponsoring positions where the funds will go to the fundraiser, but the volunteer will donate time to a specific charity, like a food bank or shelter,” said Sasuke. “It is a good opportunity for businesses to get publicity.”

“Do the businesses dictate what the internship would involve?”

“I suppose so, as long as it isn’t illegal,” said Sakura. “I’ve volunteered.”

“Do you have time to do that?” asked Mikoto seriously.

Sakura nodded, serving herself the leftover bocconcini and basil that Sasuke had left on the platter. Sasuke helped her by drizzling balsamic vinegar overtop.

“I made the time. I think it’s a good opportunity to get more work experience and network,” said Sakura seriously. “And most of the time commitment is scheduled for the summer, in between terms.”

“Is the firm considering sponsoring this event?” asked Sasuke, looking at his uncle. “It would look good for community involvement.”

“We’ll see,” said Madara.

He was surprised when Sakura turned to smile brightly at him. “Thank you, Madara. Even for considering. I know you’re a very busy person.”

“Hn,” said Madara, taking a sip of wine. The alcohol warmed his cheeks.

* * *

“And for a record ten thousand, five hundred dollars,” gasped the auctioneer, banging his gavel. “Haruno Sakura is ‘sold’ to the Uchiha and Uchiha Law Firm! May you enjoy your time together, and please allow me to express my heartfelt gratitude to you, sir, for such a generous donation.”

The applause around Madara was thundering, and he ignored it and the unfortunate pressure in his chest. It was ridiculous. He’d gotten caught up in the fervour and excitement, that was all. He’d offered up several summer internship positions—highly valuable for any student who wanted to make the right connections—and had remained to watch the auction out of curiosity, nothing more. Then Sakura’s name had been announced as the next student to be ‘auctioned off’, and he’d been frozen in place in the audience. 

—Then he’d outbid the last bidder, doubling their offer. The silence had been deafening, followed by the murmurs.

“Once!”

What had he done?

“Going twice!”

Madara was a master of composure and needed every ounce of it as what he’d just done sank in, falling to the bottom of his stomach like guilty lead.

“Sold!”

From the raised stage a dozen yards away, in her bikini and high heels, Sakura waved to the cheering crowd before gesturing with open palms towards Madara and urging the crowd to cheer for him.

For the second time, Madara was caught in Sakura’s gaze when she looked directly at him, blowing him a kiss and mouthing ‘thank you’ to him, her excitement palpable.

Madara swallowed. 

“Looks like you have a new personal assistant,” remarked Fugaku from beside him. 

Madara turned to look at Fugaku, surprised at his gentle teasing. On Fugaku’s other side, however, Mikoto was giving him such a Murderous Look of Understanding that Madara wondered if he should make an early exit and call the whole thing off.

He turned back to the stage, clearing his throat and giving a polite wave to everyone around him.

It didn’t help matters when Sakura rushed out to see him later, throwing her arms around him—still in her bikini, though now with a hoodie overtop for modesty—and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you!” she whispered excitedly in his ear, hugging him. “I can’t believe you set a new record!”

“Me neither,” commented Fugaku, making Sakura laugh.

Playing to the crowds around them, Sakura sat in Madara’s lap and made a show of fixing his tie for him, making the people around them laugh at her antics. It was all for the crowds and gave the entire affair a fun and playful atmosphere.

“A bikini,” Madara whispered in Sakura’s ear. He’d wrapped an arm around her waist to help hold her steady, being intensely attentive to exactly where his hands touched—only her sweater, never her skin.

“It certainly sold well,” said Sakura teasingly, winking at him.

“Mikoto is going to skin me,” he whispered back.

“Oh, just wait until Sasuke comes out,” said Sakura conspiratorially. 

Madara leaned back and arched a brow at Sakura. Her grin was infectious.

Giving in to Sakura’s good mood, Madara finally relaxed back in his seat again, his arm resting more comfortably around Sakura’s hip. Continuing with her show, Sakura lifted Madara’s paddle for him every so often—never enough to outbid anyone, but enough to drive up the excitement and joviality of the bidding—and he made a show of playing it up, acting exasperated. 

“Oh, Sasuke and Naruto are up next!” said Sakura, glancing at Madara’s program. She bounced excitedly in his lap.

“They’re being bid together?”  
  
“Yes, as a pair.”

“Why is…” Madara’s eyes widened as Naruto and Sasuke walked confidently on stage. 

—then a beat dropped, the lights dimmed, spotlights hit the stage, the music pounded loud and hard, and the pair began to strip off their shirts.

Madara blinked as Sakura hollered and cheered for her friends, along with most of the student body who had turned out to support the fundraiser. It was a scene straight out of “Magic Mike” live and was veering straight into “XXL” territory.

To Madara's surprise, the bidding was furious.

“Sasuke! Sasuke, you put your shirt on again right now!” shouted Mikoto, getting to her feet and waving her paddle at them to get their attention. It only served to get the auctioneer’s attention, who kept raising the bid with every flash of her paddle.

“One hundred! Two hundred! Three hundred!” he cried excitedly. “Four—five hundred!”

Frantic now, Mikoto had taken to standing on her chair, shouting. “Sasuke, I am your mother, and I swear that if you don’t put your—THOSE PANTS ARE NOT MEANT TO BE TAKEN OFF LIKE THAT, YOUNG MAN!”

Howling with laughter, Sakura fell back against Madara, who had also given in and joined her, chuckling. Tears streamed down their faces as they held each other.

“Oh my god it was even better than we planned,” gasped Sakura, her head falling against Madara’s shoulder as she tried to catch her breath.

“This was planned?” asked Madara hoarsely.

“Oh, we choreographed that!” said Sakura excitedly, and Madara laughed harder.

_Meanwhile…_

“Sasuke! Sasuke, if you don’t get down you are grounded!”

This was worth every penny, decided Madara as Sakura raised his paddle to join the melee.

He wrapped his hand around hers, skin on skin, lifting the paddle higher.

Surprised, Sakura turned to Madara. His smirk was fond.

Sakura’s return smile was tentative and her blush genuine.

* * *

The summer internship days passed quickly. Too quickly, in some ways, Madara found.

Sakura slipped into his life as if she belonged there from the first moment.

With Izuna out of the office indefinitely on an international case, Madara relied on Sakura in the office to manage his personal calendar and support his own cases. She stayed late to assist him with the filing and research, planned his meetings and scheduled his appointments. She arranged for his dry cleaning to be collected and dropped off, and even his meals.

When he was pulled into court proceedings, she ran the office in his stead, checking with Itachi, who, while a junior member of staff, was the lead when both Izuna and Madara were unavailable. 

She triple-checked the client billing before it was sent to the accounting firm, assisted their human resources department with their own reporting, and, at some point when Madara wasn’t looking, had a luxury coffee maker installed in the company kitchen. The original expense was outrageous, but when the productivity went up and time away from the office went down, Madara looked shrewdly at Sakura and admitted that she’d made a fantastic investment. 

Also, she always made the very first cup of the day for him and had it on his desk waiting for him for the minute he arrived. It was perfect every time.

On the mornings he would arrive after a night of keeping Hashirama company on one of his pub-crawls, Sakura would immediately have a pair of Alka-seltzer and acetaminophen ready, without a word of judgment. In Madara’s bleary-eyed stupor he told her to make sure she gave herself a raise and a bonus, and to bring him the paperwork immediately so he could sign it off.

Sakura had blinked, smiling ruefully and shaking her head at him.  
  
“Silly man. I’m volunteering, remember?”

And Madara would only be able to stare at her.

That was right. She was only there temporarily. She wasn’t actual staff. It was just that she fit in so well and filled her roles so perfectly he had begun treating her like proper staff without realising it. 

Because he had come to rely on her for everything.

And he hadn’t paid her a penny.

Something heavy had settled in Madara’s stomach. He was taking advantage of Sakura. And yet, it would be worse if he tried to pay her, as she likely wouldn’t accept it, and furthermore, he was beginning to feel like paying her for all she did would be more of a disservice to her, especially since…

“Are you working late again this evening?” asked Madara suddenly.

“Hm?” Sakura looked up from her own desk. Madara had moved a desk for her into his own office, so she could work there undisturbed. Also, having her there pleased him and helped him focus. “I’m here until you finish for the day, as usual.” She smiled at him.

The inside of Madara’s mouth went dry a moment and he swallowed, speaking before he could change his mind and think better of it.

“I am taking you out to supper this evening after work.”

Sakura’s mouth opened, no words coming forth.

Summoning his courtroom composure, he waited for her response.

“That’s…” Sakura pressed her lips together, taking a breath before looking up at Madara more carefully. “You… want to?” she asked cautiously.

“Yes.”

“I won’t have my bikini this time,” teased Sakura, her lips twitching with her effort not to smile at Madara.

“I didn’t purchase your services to model for me, Sakura,” said Madara dryly. “Though I’m sure some of our junior partners wouldn’t be opposed.”

Sakura laughed, and Madara’s shoulders relaxed.

“I would like to. I enjoy your company,” said Sakura. 

“Hn,” agreed Madara easily. He felt likewise. He leaned against his desk, arms and legs crossed in front of him. “Do you have a preference?”

Sakura thought it over. “There’s a Chinese karaoke bar and restaurant that’s open late not too far from here.”

Sending a prayer heavenward that Hashirama would not be around that night, Madara nodded.

“Whenever you are ready this evening,” he said.

Sakura smiled at him and nodded. “Same.”

The pink in her cheeks was so fetching that Madara had to stop himself from stepping closer to her to cup her face between his hands.

“Madara?” said Sakura softly, breaking through his daze.

“Hn?”

She tilted her chin at his desk. “I think you have a meeting to prepare for,” she said gently. “In ten minutes.”

“Meeting?... Meeting, yes,” said Madara, straightening and heading back to his desk stiffly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

Dinner came and went… It was relaxing.  
  
Relaxation was a novel experience for Madara. Sakura easily held her own in conversation with him, arguing and teasing in turn. He was caught off guard by the way she did not back down in her convictions, supporting them with facts and ferocity. She had an innocence to her arguments that was refreshing after spending so much time in a courtroom defending the best and worst Konoha had to offer. Naive, but refreshing. And she had an intelligence so brilliant he wanted to bask in it. Hashirama probably would have enjoyed her company, too, now that he thought of it. The two of them could have argued medical things Madara didn’t give a whit about but would have enjoyed seeing debated. Not that Madara intended to share Sakura with anyone else. She was his. 

No, he corrected himself, she was his pseudo-employee for…

No, he decided, more firmly, as she laughed at another of his dry comments. She gained absolutely nothing from him and could have walked away from him at any time. He knew his temper and expectations were demanding at the best of times, and she had risen to every occasion and even set him in his place.

Madara wanted Sakura to stay with him.

Did she feel the same?

“What are your plans this weekend?” asked Sakura, reaching for her wine.

“Work, family, exercise,” said Madara.

“You did that last weekend,” said Sakura, a curious frown pursing her brows. “And… every weekend.”

“Ah, it’s the routine,” said Madara easily.

“What about doing something for yourself?”

“Hn?”

“You work all the time, you spend your free time assisting your family, you hit the gym when you can, but when do you fit yourself into your life?” Sakura watched the blankness flicker across Madara’s features.

“I have many respons—”

“You need to make time for yourself. Go out. Do something fun. Play with a dog. Go for a hike,” said Sakura, listing whatever came to mind. “Take a cooking class!”

Madara groaned mentally. Now she sounded just like Hashirama.

“Your best friend has said this to you before, hasn’t he?” surmised Sakura. She smirked at Madara.

The universe was out to punish him for he knew not what.

Or… what if it was the opposite?  
  
“I will agree to go for a hike,” said Madara. 

Sakura beamed at him. 

“If you’ll join me,” he added.

Turn your disadvantage to an advantage, thought Madara, watching the surprise, then pleasure, in Sakura’s expression.

“... Where did you have in mind?”

* * *

It was new. And wonderful.

And people around Madara began to notice.

“Did you have a good weekend, sir?” asked one of the juniors at the firm when Madara returned on Monday morning, feeling more energized than he had in years.

“Hn,” said Madara. 

His expression softened as he opened his office door, smelling fresh-brewed coffee and seeing Sakura smiling at him from beside his desk. 

“Your agenda for the day is ready. Your first meeting is at eight-thirty,” she said.

Madara nodded. Then he watched the surprise in Sakura’s face as he handed her a coffee he’d made for her. It had taken him four tries to get it to work right, but it smelled like what she normally drank.

“Good morning, Sakura.”

“Good morning, sir.”

“Madara,” he corrected her.

“Good morning… Madara,” said Sakura, a light flush on her cheeks. She accepted the coffee. “Thank you.”

“Hn,” said Madara, taking a seat at his desk.

Sakura turned to leave his office when Madara looked up at her.

“You may work here this morning,” he said. “Please,” he added.

“But your meeting—”  
  
Madara shook his head. “You have time to start your day here.”  
  
Sakura smiled at Madara, understanding he was asking for her company.

“Of course, s… Madara.”

His head hidden behind his computer monitor, Madara smiled softly to himself, nodding once.

* * *

Reviewing his calendar one morning, Madara paused when he felt his phone vibrate on his desk. Glancing at the text message, he straightened and slipped it into his pocket.

“Sakura, would you mind running some errands for me?” Madara asked, not looking up.

Semi-permanently working from Madara’s office now, Sakura looked up from her desk where she’d been sorting through a finance report.

“Of course.”  
  
“Thank you. I’ll print the addresses and orders out. You can use my car.”

Sakura’s eyes widened. “I’m sure I can—”  
  
“No questions, just do it,” ordered Madara.

“Yes s—Madara,” said Sakura, quickly getting to her feet.

Madara glanced at the clock, rising to go to the printer himself to fetch the schedule.

“Here is a credit card if you require gas. Here are my keys,” he said, setting them on her desk. He turned to collect her jacket from beside his in his closet. “Take your lunch while you’re out as a bonus,” he said. “And bring extra back for me. You know what I like.”

“Well, yes, but—”

Madara’s phone buzzed again against his chest.

Sakura noticed and slowed.

“Why are you getting rid of me?” she asked quietly.

Madara’s exhale was deliberate and measured.

“Remember that this firm deals with the very best, Sakura,” said Madara carefully. “Sometimes, that is the very best of the very worst.”

Sakura held Madara’s gaze for a long moment before nodding, slipping her hands through the sleeves of the coat he held out for her. “Would you like lunch, or would you like me to work from home for the rest of the day?” she asked, turning away from him as she picked up her purse.

Madara’s shoulders slumped with relief.

“Take the rest of the day off,” he said. 

“With your car keys?” asked Sakura, arching a brow at him.

Madara pressed his lips together. “I’ll see you at your place tonight? Keep the keys. Just… go.” He said, reaching for her and pulling back at the last moment. He longed to touch her and reassure himself and knew he couldn’t. Now was not the time.

Looking over her shoulder at Madara as she left, Sakura nodded. 

“I’ll text you so you know I got home okay,” she said.

“Thank you,” said Madara quietly.

Then she was gone.

Back at his desk, Madara answered the text messages before calling someone else.

“Yes,” answered Itachi.

“Watch Sakura for the rest of the day and call immediately if you see anything,” ordered Madara. “She has my car. With my permission.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Itachi,” added Madara, against his better judgment. He hated relying on others or admitting weakness or vulnerability of any kind. This was torture. But he had no choice. With Izuna away, Itachi was it.

“Yes?”

“This is your top priority.”

“Understood.”

After work, Madara hailed a cab and made his way directly to Sakura’s apartment, not stopping even to put on his coat. He arrived at Sakura’s building and hurried up the stairs two at a time, sometimes three, in his rush to reassure himself she was fine. Itachi’s regular text updates had helped him get through the day, but he was frantic on the inside. In his office, he had barely had enough time to drag a folding screen out of the storage closet and set it up around Sakura’s workspace to camouflage it before his clients had arrived.

“Renovations,” Madara had mentioned in a bored, irritated tone. 

They hadn’t paid any further attention to it.

Sakura answered on the second knock, and Madara nearly bowled her over when he shoved through the door, scooping her up in his arms and crushed her against his chest, burying his face in her hair. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the faint scent of her perfume and shampoo, taking it inside him and keeping it there, with the rest of the pieces of him that Needed Her.

It had taken a second for Sakura to regain her balance, but then her arms wrapped around Madara, too, her fingers tightening in the back of his shirt.

They held each other for a full minute, not saying anything, until someone further into the room cleared his throat. 

Madara froze.

“I’ll take my leave,” said Itachi, picking up his suit jacket. He waited patiently in the hallway for them to move so he could reach his shoes. “Uncle, Sakura.”

“Not a word,” breathed Madara viciously. His arms secured Sakura to his chest, but his eyes were on Itachi and they overflowed with his possession for Sakura.

“Hn,” said Itachi, aloof. He slid on his shoes, asking, off-hand, “Does mother know?”

“Not. A. Word,” repeated Madara. 

Itachi nodded, letting himself out.

“Thank you, Itachi,” said Sakura, giving him a short wave. It was all she could manage while Madara had her arms pinned to her side. 

Itachi smiled softly at Sakura, closing the door behind him.

It was silent for a moment and Sakura relaxed against Madara, feeling him, gradually, relax and finally release her, too.

When he leaned back, he reached a hand up to cup her cheek.

Sakura spread her fingers against his, stroking the back of his wrist and hand.

“Just let me know when I need to go, and I’ll do it. Itachi… hinted that it was in everyone’s best interests if I do as I’m told,” said Sakura, holding Madara’s gaze. “I don’t like it, but I understand.”

“Ah,” said Madara in a raspy voice.

Sakura’s brows rose and her lips pressed together as she shook her head at Madara.

“Silly man. I’m only here for the summer, anyway. You can play me off as a vacuous summer student—as long as you tell me first—if it will make it easier.”

She reached up to squeeze his shoulders and wrap her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him down so his forehead lightly bumped hers. “What are you going to do when I’m gone?” she teased, kissing his nose.

His chest rising and falling with the strength of his emotions, Madara just stared at Sakura.

“Stay with you,” he said simply.

It was obvious, wasn’t it? He’d thought so. She made everything in his life better. Except this one little bit, but obviously they would work around it.

His arms shifted, his touch reaching further down, from Sakura’s shoulder blades down to her hips. His palms skimmed down her sides with intention. He tilted his chin, his gaze dropping to Sakura’s lips. 

They parted.

So did her legs, widening her stance unconsciously for him to step into.

She understood. Her _body_ understood.

Sakura, however, watched him carefully.

“Madara?” she breathed out, uncertainly.

Madara closed his eyes. 

She wasn’t ready.

“Would you like supper?” asked Madara instead. His hands moved back up Sakura’s spine, all the way up to rest upon her shoulders as he released her and stepped back.

Still watching him, Sakura nodded.

* * *

Madara scowled at Hashirama.

“Hn?” Madara asked around his shochu.

“Do you have a sunburn on your nose?” asked Hashirama incredulously. “Are you getting outside?”

“Hn,” sighed Madara, resting his head on his hand, his elbow on the bar counter.

“Are you… pouting?”

No, Madara wasn’t pouting. He was just… frustrated… because Sakura had returned to campus for a day to sort out some sort of course mix-up. He never should have called Hashirama. It wasn’t as if he was lonely or anything. He was just… restless.

“Was your girlfriend busy today?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” said Madara, then froze. He picked up his glass and glared at it blearily. How many had he had?

“You’ve had a girlfriend for months,” laughed Madara. “She works with you, obviously, since you never make time in your life to meet anyone. What’s her name?”

“S’not my g’rlfriend.”

Hashirama smiled smugly at Madara. “Is she younger than you? I knew you would, someday. Hypocrite,” said Hashirama cheerfully. “They’re wonderful, aren’t they? So energizing. Especially in the morning,” he sighed.

“I am not—ugh,” said Madara, his cheeks pink and expression disgusted. “I’m not like you. Cradle-robber,” he muttered into his glass.

“You wouldn’t feel so guilty if you believed that,” taunted Hashirama. “Why not bring her by sometime?”

“No,” said Madara.

“Is she cute?”

Yes. “Shut up,” said Madara, wondering when his glass had become empty.

“Made use of your desk in your office yet?”

“You’re a deviant pervert.”

Hashirama laughed, enjoying his best friend’s embarrassment. It was rare he had the opportunity to wheedle him about his private life. “And you’re a prude.”

“Just because I’m going out doesn’t mean I’m dating someone. Maybe it’s just time for me to get out,” said Madara, in a flustered attempt to change the subject.

Hashirama grinned at Madara, swirling his drink in his hand. “Biological clock ticking?”

Madara held out his glass to the bartender, who refilled it without a word.

The swirling alcohol slowed, and Hashirama got a better look at his long-time friend.

It wasn’t just that Madara had a sunburn. Beneath the alcohol, his skin looked healthier overall. The stress that normally lined his face had faded, his colouring was healthier, less sallow. The musculature he’d always taken pride in was more full, as if he had finally started drinking water instead of living on coffee and whiskey and the occasional shot with clients. 

Someone had started taking care of himself; or, at least, had someone taking care of him.

“You been spending time with the Clan again?” asked Hashirama.

Madara shrugged a shoulder. “It’s 100-day season,” sighed Madara. “Red pockets everywhere.”

Hashirama nodded, considering Madara.

“Anyone let you hold the babies?” Hashirama asked.

Madara shook his head after a minute, sadly.

“Did you take her along?” asked Hashirama cautiously.

Madara shook his head again.

“Maybe you should,” said Hashirama, watching Madara.

Turning away from his glass, Madara looked at Hashirama suspiciously.

“Just a thought,” said Hashirama more sympathetically. He took a sip from his highball glass.

Madara turned to glare at the bar counter.

“What are you afraid of?” asked Hashirama, leaning against the counter and mimicking Madara’s pose, head in hand. “Happiness? Family of your own? A reason to l—”

Madara’s sharp gaze cut through Hashirama’s questioning, forcing Hashirama to look away.

“This from the man who loves so many he can’t settle on just one,” said Madara.

“I love life, and I live it,” said Hashirama, used to Madara’s verbal lashes. Madara avoided all forms of vulnerability. He was probably terrified and pushing Hashirama away because he knew he was right. Again.

Madara glared at him before looking back at the counter again.

“It’s better than running from it because you’re afraid of being hurt.”

“I lost everyone but Izuna and Mikoto,” said Madara evenly.

“So did I,” said Hashirama. “But which of us is happier at the moment?”

“Inside or out?” asked Madara.

Hashirama gave Madara an easy smile. “One of these days, you’re going to be jealous of me and my life.”

“Doubtful,” drawled Madara.

Hashirama laughed. “When the right person comes along, Madara, it makes all the difference.”

“You would know, you’ve found the right one every few weeks.”

Hashirama laughed harder.

Madara let a little of his smirk through. Stupid Hashirama. As if that would happen. 

* * *

“More thank you cards,” announced Sakura, shuffling in beside Madara. She nudged him to the side with her hip before tucking the collection of colourful envelopes in the top drawer of Madara’s desk, instead of on top of his inbox.

“Hn?”

Madara gave Sakura a confused look.

“I know you keep the baby pictures in an album and look at the thank you cards on your rough days,” she said, closing the drawer. “Now you have a little stash of new ones to look at on your next bad day.”

“I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” she interrupted him simply, closing the drawer carefully to make sure it didn’t get stuck. “Would you like more coffee?”

“No,” pouted Madara.

“I’ll put extra sugar in it,” said Sakura, taking his cup away. She left his office, making her way to the office kitchen with a click of her heels. 

The clacking warned Madara just in time of Sakura’s return, and he shoved the drawer closed—

—on his thumb.

Sakura set the fresh coffee down on Madara’s desk exactly where he liked it and looked up to see if he needed anything.

Seeing his frozen expression she frowned, sighed, and turned around to head back to the kitchen for ice, shaking her head.

“For heaven’s sake,” she muttered, ignoring Madara’s guilty, wounded look.

“Thank you,” he called after her, reaching for the coffee with his not-broken hand.

* * *

It was the last day of the summer work period. The farewell party for the interns was summed up by a catered luncheon at the office and a glowing letter of recommendation for each of the departing employees. A photo was taken of each student shaking Madara’s hand—Sakura had quizzed him on all their names just before the lunch, to make sure he remembered them all—and they were thanked and teased by all the senior staff before collecting what was left of their personal belongings and taking them home. 

Sakura had already taken everything but her teacup home with her the day before.

Madara had pretended all week not to watch her pack her things up a little at a time, and had done well with ignoring her impending departure, he thought.

“I’m going back to school, not dying of a terminal illness,” said Sakura at the end of the day, her back to Madara as she labeled a legal-size envelope. She had finished several hours ago, officially, and had moved on to menial tasks that anyone would be able to finish for her in case she didn’t complete them. Everything else had been re-delegated. It had taken her and Madara quite some time to redistribute her considerable workload, surprising both of them. Neither had realized just how deeply involved Sakura had become in the firm, how ingrained in their processes. It had all built naturally. 

“Hn?”

Sakura looked at Madara in exasperation.

“You’ve barely spoken to me all week,” she said, looking up at him. She set the envelope aside. “It’s like you think I’m leaving forever.”

“You’ll be in medical school,” said Madara. “I understand it’s a considerable time investment. Perhaps not as much as law, which is far more demanding…”

Sakura laughed, shaking her head. “I’m not interested in law, I’m interested in medicine.”

“Hn. More’s the pity,” said Madara.

“You could be happy for me, you know. I have worked very hard for this,” said Sakura.

“I am very proud of you, Sakura,” said Madara honestly.

“Then why are you moping?”

Madara’s fingers stopped typing on his keyboard. Why was he moping?

“Do you remember, that day at your apartment, when I sent you home?” asked Madara. “Earlier this summer.”

Sakura’s hands settled in her lap as she sat at her desk. “Yes.”

“You asked me what I would do when you left.”

Sakura’s face warmed. “Yes, but we were both a bit worked up, and—”

“I meant what I said,” said Madara.

Sakura’s mouth opened and closed. She was speechless.

Knowing that if ever the moment called for it, this was it, Madara got up from his desk and went to Sakura. “Are you almost done?”

Sakura glanced down at her now-tidy desk. The stack of envelopes and address stickers was neatly tucked into her ‘re-distribution’ tray, and everything else had been put away.

“Yes,” said Sakura.

“Then you are no longer under Uchiha employ,” said Madara.

He reached for Sakura’s hand, sliding his fingers along the inside of her wrist before weaving their fingers together.

“You’re free for dinner?” He gently pulled her to her feet, keeping her hand in his.

“I have some time,” said Sakura, looking up at Madara, refusing to let him intimidate her.

Madara’s chest swelled as he took in the sparkle in Sakura’s eyes.

He smirked at her, and Sakura grinned.

* * *

It was when Sakura was in class and her phone began silently vibrating that Sakura began to see more of Madara’s silly side. Perhaps silly was the wrong word: completely unhinged may be more accurate.

As class ended, Sakura snatched up her phone and checked her messages, anxious she had missed an emergency call. It had buzzed for several minutes straight at one point.

Her brows furrowed as she opened her texts, only to be inundated with pictures.

Baby pictures.

Madara was sending her baby pictures.

 _“These are the new ones from the thank you cards,”_ she read, her shoulders slumping with disbelief. _“Aren’t they cute…This one’s my favourite, look at her little hands...”_

“You silly man,” Sakura sighed, smiling to herself and shaking her head.

With a sigh she sent back a quick message, confirming yes, they were very cute, and wasn’t it Tuesday and time for his meeting with Mr and Mrs so-and-so?

Sakura turned off her phone for a bit, focusing on her next class.

Back in his office, Madara carefully arranged the baby pictures in his album with their names, dates of birth, and parents' names and contact information. He was thrilled to finally have someone to share his pictures with.

* * *

On a beautiful October Friday afternoon, Madara looked around his office and realized he was finally on top of his workload again. Izuna had returned, Sakura’s work had been rebalanced to others, and his own caseload was heavy, as usual, but manageable. In fact, he had no meetings that afternoon which meant, if he wanted, he could take it off.

It was insanity.

Madara never would have considered taking an afternoon off for no reason before. For a car service appointment, perhaps, or a funeral. 

But now he wanted to take the time off for himself.

… or he could do something unexpected...

Mind made up, Madara set his out of office message, redirected all his correspondence to Izuna until Monday, and locked up his office. He ignored the stares as he left, nodding at those who waved to him. 

He was going to have an afternoon to himself.

—With Sakura.

* * *

That night, as they cuddled together on Madara’s couch, Madara leaned his head over, resting it on Sakura’s and letting out a content sigh.

Grinning, Sakura turned her head to look up at Madara, surprised at how relaxed he was. Her lips brushed his as they faced each other, their sides pressed together, their legs warm pressed side-to-side.

Sakura’s breath caught at the change that entered Madara’s eyes, darkening them.

Yet he made no move toward her, simply watched her, waiting for her cue to proceed.

Sakura’s green eyes flickered up to Madara’s, then down to his lips, then back to his eyes, her curiosity and longing plain on her beautiful face. Madara closed his eyes, lowered his face and swept his cheek reassuringly against Sakura’s.  
  
“It’s okay, there’s no rush,” he murmured against her ear.

“What if I want to rush?” asked Sakura. It was one of the few times Madara had ever heard her anything less than confident.

“Then you start with a single step,” he whispered.

Madara leaned back just enough to look into Sakura’s eyes again. 

Reaching up he cupped her face, stroking the softness of her skin.

Sakura did the same to him, making Madara’s pulse flutter. 

“Hn.”

His heart beating like thunder in his chest, Madara tipped Sakura’s chin up just enough so that all she had to do was close the distance between their lips.

Sakura was so gentle, Madara almost missed it. The moment he responded, though, she poured herself, her yearning, her wanting, her need, into him. 

When she did, he felt his heart race like it hadn’t in years, and Madara immediately leashed the more primal side of himself. He focused on Sakura and held himself in check lest he overwhelm her. It was a good thing he did, for when he felt Sakura’s fingers dig into his shirt, pulling herself into his lap to grind against him with a breathy moan, he instinctively rose up to meet her, his own soft moan surprising them both.

Madara’s eyes opened at the sound, widening when he heard Sakura’s wanton gasp. His hands had shifted, one staying at her cheek to angle her where he wanted her, the other sliding to her hip to guide her rhythm. It had been so instinctual he hadn’t noticed when he’d done it. He pulled away from Sakura, flooded with shame, and rested his head against hers, gathering his composure.

“Madara?” asked Sakura, very quietly.

“Hn,” he asked, his eyes closed. So much for trying to leash himself.

It was then he noticed the breeze at his chest, and looked down. Most of his shirt buttons were undone, and Sakura’s shirt was rumpled, the hem rising where he’d splayed his fingers around her hip.

“Fuck,” he muttered, ashamed of himself. He wasn’t a teenager. He was a grown, experienced man. There was no excuse for his lack of composure.

“Why did you stop? What’s wrong?”

“I started taking advantage of you.” The self-loathing in Madara’s voice was tangible, his teeth and clenched eyes further, damning evidence.

He should leave. He should leave and never come back. After he called the police on himself. Yes, that sounded good. He would call the police on himself, give them his address—wait, this was his address—so he would drive Sakura home, make sure she was safe, then call the police on himself, have them lock him away where he could never hurt her again, then—

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes, I—” Madara opened his eyes and looked at Sakura. “Explain.”

Sakura arched a brow at Madara.

“I wasn’t ready, at the beginning of the summer. It was fun, but I didn’t know you well enough. During the summer, you were my boss. It wasn’t right. It was tense, but we would make it through. When I returned to school, I had to adjust again,” said Sakura. “Do you follow?”

Madara nodded once.

“But now, you’re free from work, I’m free from class, and I really just want to grind in your lap and make out for a while. Maybe go topless, we’ll see where it goes,” said Sakura honestly. Her hands twisted in Madara’s shirt with her desperation. “Can we just… Keep going for a bit? Please? I’ve been wanting to kiss you for six months. And that tiny taste wasn’t nearly enough.”

Madara blinked.

It was a lot to process. But the message came through loud and clear to him.

Immediately he stood and Sakura tightened her legs around his waist.

“One minute,” said Madara.

In record time he had, with Sakura snugged against his throbbing, clothed erection, done a full tour of the room, closing every blind and drape to ensure their privacy.

Then he returned to the couch, promptly resuming their previous position. Though now his hands were on the outside of Sakura’s thighs, pulling her in closer.

“I see exactly which part of the conversation sunk in,” remarked Sakura, undoing several more of Madara’s buttons.

“The important part,” agreed Madara, stroking and squeezing her thighs.

Sakura giggled when she felt Madara’s hands tickle up her ribs and pull her down to him.

“Now where were we?” he asked, his eyes half-lidded.

“Right,” said Sakura, lowering her head to his.

“About,” her eyes flickered to Madara’s lips.

“Here,” she whispered, sealing them together.

She was met with the tip of his tongue against hers and his hands on her skin, and it was perfect.

* * *

It was December twenty-fourth, and Sakura knocked on Madara’s office door at the firm.

Surprised, Madara looked up. “Did I miss—”  
  
Closing the door behind her, Sakura shook her head, smiling at Madara. She undid her coat and put it away in his closet, the way she used to during the summer. Beneath the coat she wore a lovely wrap-style dress. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, unusual for her. She normally wore it down. It looked very nice, either way. 

“Not at all.”

“Then why…”

There was a click as Sakura locked the door behind her. She held out a beautifully wrapped box to Madara.

“Happy birthday!”

Madara smiled. It was a smile very few got to see from him, genuine and warm. 

“I thought we weren’t getting presents. You’re focusing on school,” he said.

“I think you’ll like this one,” said Sakura. “Open it.”

Shaking his head, Madara looked down at the gift and undid the ribbon. “You know we’re going to have dinner later,” he said, lifting the top off the box. “And…”

Sitting at his desk, Madara’s stomach tightened.

Inside the box was a very simple gift. A gift that didn’t fit in with the rest of his office. In fact, it would have been more at home in a living room, on a couch, or more specifically, on his bed.

“Sakura,” said Madara, voice thick. The pillow was very thick.

“Hmm?” asked Sakura in a coy voice.

Madara looked up from the box and swallowed.

The wrap dress was gone. Instead, Sakura leaned against his desk in nothing but a cupless lace bustier and the tiniest pair of lace panties he’d ever seen.

“I want you,” said Sakura quietly, “to lean back on your desk.” She reached for Madara and pulled him to his feet, guiding him where she wanted him. “Spread your legs,” she directed, just as quietly. “And drop that pillow so I can kneel between your knees.” 

It landed with a soft puff.

Sakura smiled up knowingly at Madara as she took her place.

“Now,” she said, reaching for his belt. “The most important parts to this game, are not to let go of my eyes, my hair, or your cum, until I say so.”

“Sakura,” warned Madara. “The blinds…”

Her eyes on his as she cupped him through his trousers, weighing and measuring him in her palm, Sakura drew down Madara's zipper, releasing his straining cock, and smiled.

“Leave them open this time,” said Sakura, swallowing his protests as she held his gaze.

Madara’s only words thereafter were his moans of pleasure as he begged for release.

“Come home early this afternoon, if you can. I’ll be ready,” murmured Sakura as she kissed Madara goodbye.

Madara’s chest nearly burst as Sakura’s fingers stroked down his chest to gently cup and squeeze him.

“It’s time,” she whispered, stroking him one last, promising time before leaving his office, closing the door behind her.

If anyone complained when Sakura left an hour after her arrival, about their boss’s remarkably good mood thereafter, they didn’t share their comments with anyone on the management team—especially when Madara dismissed them all early and told them to enjoy the holidays with their families, and not to show their faces around the office unless they got an emergency call from a client. Also, he would not be available for the next three to five days due to a private matter, so if anyone needed him, they should just call Izuna…

* * *

It was Christmas Eve and Madara’s birthday, and Sakura welcomed Madara into his home wearing a naughty smile, a satin bow and thigh-high stockings. The bustier and scrap of panty from that afternoon had vanished leaving Sakura bare to Madara’s ravenous gaze and hands. 

_“It’s time,”_ she had whispered in his ear that afternoon. He had waited for months, never pressuring her, waiting for her permission. For all her knowledge, Sakura had never slept with someone before, and Madara recognized the importance of his preparation and patience now most of all. 

Damn if she didn’t push the constraints of his self-control, however, while he tried to slow her down so she could enjoy herself. It was a struggle not to lose himself to her enthusiasm as she undid his buttons, slid his vest over his shoulders in the hall, cupped him through his pants even as he growled deep in his throat, burying his hands in her hair to simply kiss her. 

They stumbled into his room and Madara set Sakura down on the edge of his bed so he could strip the rest of his clothes off faster. Every time he stepped within reach, Sakura’s hands stroked and fondled him, leaving his jaw tense and self-control in shreds. When he finally shucked his socks and leaned down to kiss her properly, Madara steered Sakura further onto the wide bed, soothing her with his hands and lips and sweet murmurs until he lay across her, his cock pressing against the soft, bare skin of her body for the first time. He paused to slowly pull the covers up over them, in case she felt chilly or shy. 

Hovering over Sakura, keeping his weight off her for now, Madara watched Sakura bite her lip. 

“Are you sure?” Madara asked softly. He took her hand, weaving their fingers together and squeezing lightly. The lamp glow was soft in the darkness of his quiet room, the blanket bunched at his trim hips. The shock he had felt when he realized months ago that Sakura was a virgin had nearly sent him packing. She was training to be a doctor! It somehow seemed ridiculous to him. And yet it had made sense the more he considered it, especially with how driven Sakura was with her studies. That she was willing to share such a potential risk and vulnerability with him caused a foreign swelling and warmth to stretch his heart. 

So yes, Madara absolutely wanted to make sure Sakura was certain.

Sakura swallowed before nodding, “Yes.”

“Then watch,” murmured Madara, kissing her gently before tilting her head to look down where he guided himself and entered her, joining them. He kissed her cheek sweetly, patiently, holding himself steady as her breathing fluttered and she adjusted to his girth. “Easy, love,” he whispered against her ear, flexing his powerful hips and pushing in a little at a time. “There’s no rush…There will be more yet.”

Her breath catching, Sakura watched Madara sink into her, moving inside her, as gently and patiently and deliberately as he always was with her. It was so much, and Sakura closed her eyes a second as she swallowed, pressing her forehead to his shoulder, her exhale shuddering through her as Madara stroked her, inside and out. He had touched her prior, of course, stretching her with his fingers, but such a new and filling penetration stole her breath.

“That’s it,” praised Madara as Sakura canted her hips. “You can do it, good girl.”

Sakura huffed.

“I know how my body works,” quipped Sakura.

“But I don’t, and I have no intention of hurting you,” said Madara patiently. He leaned down to kiss her nose fondly. “Too much enthusiasm too early… may leave you unable to walk tomorrow.”

Sakura gave him a look. “Someone’s confident.”

Madara’s lips curled around his honest, genuine laugh. He shook his head, relaxing and letting more of his weight rest against Sakura’s smaller body; sinking deeper into her. He watched intently as the flush deepened on Sakura’s cheeks, her eyes shining brighter as she watched more of him disappear inside her. Her tongue peeked out to lick her bottom lip and he studied it keenly. Here he was, trying to be an honourable man, and she kept teasing his self-control. It would serve her right if he left her bow-legged… Then a thought occurred to him. 

Sakura enjoyed learning; but moreso, she thrived on discovery. An idea rose in Madara’s mind.

“Would you prefer to drive?” Madara asked, leaning his head back to watch Sakura. If she kept nibbling her lips like that, he was going to lose himself far earlier than intended. And after being so patient for so long, that would be a significant waste of his… time.

Her focus broken, Sakura looked up at Madara, curious.

Madara’s lips quirking in a sexy, knowing smile were Sakura’s only warning as Madara wrapped his arm around her waist, and flipped them so that he was on the bottom, Sakura’s legs astride him. He inched himself up the king-size bed, resting against the pillows which raised him up slightly, just high enough to be able to comfortably watch her every reaction.

“Better?” asked Madara, noting the way Sakura’s hair was sexily mussed, and the more confident way she sat.

Sakura nodded, biting her lip again.

“You know… that video we watched together, the other night?” said Sakura, slowly raising and lowering herself on Madara’s thick cock as she gained her balance and rhythm. Her hips eventually swiveled and rocked in a steady undulation that had Madara’s jaw clenching.

“Which video,” he asked, voice thick. He gave a tentative roll of his hips against Sakura’s in encouragement, just enough to let her know he was more than ready to ride. He took all of her in, from where they were joined to the curve of her flank to the way her pink-tipped breasts had the faintest bounce now, her movements becoming more natural and responsive.

Then he remembered which video.

Flexing against Sakura as she began to bear down on him, Madara leaned forward to nuzzle first her left breast, then her right, gently sucking on her stiffening nipples. Feeling himself moving more easily inside Sakura’s now-slick channel, Madara pumped more deeply, though slowly, inside her, almost all the way in.  
  
Sakura’s gasp as he stroked his thumb down the sensitive crease of her thighs made him smile. He did it again, delighting in how she shivered against his naked skin. Her honest reactions were so beautiful, her vulnerability and ease with him forever charming him and making him love her all the more. He lay his palm over more of her mound before gently slipping a fingertip inside her. He groaned at how slick she was. 

Sakura immediately paused and tensed.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” murmured Madara, tilting his chin up and kissing his way up to Sakura’s mouth. “That’s it,” he coaxed as she began moving again, getting used to his gentle finger as he stroked her, soon inserting another. “That’s it,” he repeated soothingly, before kissing her deeper, losing himself to Sakura’s soft moans against his lips.

Madara’s thumb was soon exploring the responsiveness of Sakura’s swollen clitoris. Sakura’s complete trust in Madara peeled away her inhibitions in his arms, leaving her emotionally bare to him. As their care for each other was expressed so honestly and physically, leaving passion marks down their chests and throats, Sakura whimpered and whined against Madara’s damp skin, her fingers scrabbling against his chest and shoulders as the heat between them built higher.

“I’m—I’m going to—I’m—”

Sakura tried to speak, the emotions and physical highs frightening her. It was so much, too much; her legs began to tremble uncontrollably. Fear fought arousal, and the last traces of her vulnerability were about to be shared with him. 

Madara swallowed, himself emotional at seeing Sakura so unraveled, allowing herself to be so completely unguarded. She had to let it happen. She was brave and strong. She could do this during their first time together as lovers, he knew she could.

“Keep going,” commanded Madara firmly, understanding the fear that threatened to topple her. He picked up his pace, pulling Sakura down against him to help her maintain her own vigour when she began to pull away in fear. He knew what was coming and pushed Sakura on. “It’s right.”

“I’m—it’s—”

Focused on Sakura, Madara pressed on, thrusting firm and harder into Sakura now. “Keep going—” The fluttering inside Sakura had begun, and Madara felt her rhythm falter. His lower back and balls tightened in warning. 

“It’s—it’s—I—”

Sakura’s head fell forward as she fought her body’s natural reaction, unwilling to give over to it. Unwilling to surrender.

Understanding what Sakura needed, Madara reached up to cup Sakura’s cheek. Immediately Sakura’s eyes widened in surprise and Madara held her gaze as he thrust up hard—  
  
“Keep going,” he commanded her. “—I love you.”

—and his fingers furiously worked the most sensitive part of her clitoris, forcing her climax upon her.

Sakura gasped, tensed—and half-sobbed as her orgasm overwhelmed her. She jerked and shook, her fingers digging into Madara’s shoulders as the intensity rolled through her. Still fighting the last of the aftershocks, she fell against Madara’s chest, shuddering and limp.

Wrapping his arms around Sakura, Madara lay back and closed his eyes, kissing Sakura everywhere he could reach her. He was in no hurry, now that she had reached her first peak. He had expected her to fight the loss of control, the unwillingness to surrender to her body. It was frightening for a woman who was so used to controlling everything in her life. She knew her body, of course, she was right. But sharing such a loss of control with another person when she wasn’t sure of the outcome was something else entirely. Like any other unknown she would master, she had to learn to welcome it instead of fear it. 

And she was so beautiful.

Stroking Sakura’s back, Madara slowed his pace and lazily thrust into Sakura more to help her ride out her aftershocks than to satisfy himself—not that he would ever decline an opportunity to spend time inside her warmth and intimacy.

As he kissed across Sakura’s brow, Sakura gathered herself and looked up at him, uncertain.

“Are you alright?” Madara asked.

Sakura nodded, letting her head rest against Madara’s chest but still watching him. Her thoughts were hidden, though many emotions played across her face. There were several he recognized—gratitude, embarrassment, lust, hunger—and some that flickered too quickly for him to catch. Granted, he was also somewhat distracted by the way Sakura’s core rhythmically and snugly contracted around his throbbing erection—his quick inhale at her sudden clench gave him away—as he remained so deeply inside her, rocking his hips into hers firmly in a gentle undulation to soothe her eager hunger. If he’d been a less experienced man, he would have been undone the moment she broke through her inhibitions and clamped around him. 

Testing the waters of Sakura’s resilience, Madara tucked a loose lock of Sakura’s hair behind her ear, asking, “Did I leave you speechless?”

There was a smirk in his voice.

There it was—there was that spark behind Sakura’s eyes that Madara loved so much.

His grin softened even as Sakura gave him a not-so-light slap to his shoulder.

“Don’t be a jerk and ruin the moment,” said Sakura.

“The ‘moment’ is still happening,” said Madara, his rhythm never faltering.

Sakura’s cheeks warmed as she blinked slowly, realizing that her hips had automatically begun following Madara’s pace again as she recovered. She looked at him, curious and surprised.

More curious, though.

“Would you like to try again?” asked Madara in a low, velvety voice.

Sakura pushed herself up, looking down at Madara imperiously.

Then she slowly leaned back, bracing herself with her hands on his thighs, splaying herself wider and setting a harder pace.

“Do you think you can keep up?” she asked Madara.

Madara swore under his breath as he felt himself getting even harder.

Cupping her hip with one hand, he trailed his finger up Sakura’s thighs, tickling her sensitive places as he went. Her tummy fluttered when he reached a certain spot, and he did it again.

Hn.

Spreading his hand wide to reach both Sakura’s sweet spot with his ring finger and inside her to her clit with his thumb, Madara smirked.

“Hold on,” he said.

Not the second, but the third time she came, Sakura brokenly gasped Madara’s name in mercy and praise, while he growled out the most guttural, “ _Fuck_ ” of his life when Sakura let herself release her inhibitions entirely and give over to the force of her attraction and lust for Madara. It undid Madara, and he ejaculated so hard inside Sakura that he was left dizzy and gasping. He genuinely wondered if the condom he’d put on would hold. 

Panting, refusing to admit he was trembling with the strength of his own orgasm, Madara lay back with his eyes closed as Sakura came down from her high in his arms, snuggly wrapped in his blankets. His hips moved gently against hers as the thick, milky ropes of his seed continued to pump out of him in bursts, leaving his skin oversensitive and his limbs loose.

“W-water?” he asked hoarsely, a hand over his forehead. He was so hot he felt parched. As Sakura curled into him, already half-asleep, he noticed with some surprise how lightheaded and tingly he felt. What… what had happened? He hadn’t come so hard since his early twenties. It was incredible.

“Hnnn,” murmured Sakura to the negative. 

Against his naked chest, Sakura’s breathing was soon even and deep, and it soothed Madara, lulling him into peace. His thoughts remained distant when he drifted off, his heart full, his body more satisfied than it had ever been, and his emotions content as Sakura kitten-snored on him.

What stuck with him, though, was that for the first time in his life he’d confessed his love for a woman in the throes of passion and felt it, meant it, bone-deep.

—And she hadn’t said it back.

**TBC**


	2. I want you to be free from me (Release)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drama! THE HURT.

# 

# Sakura and Madara - Ladders

Madara and Hashirama sat at the bar, Hashirama’s latest girlfriend—half his age at best—singing karaoke at the front of the room.

“You haven’t told her yet, have you,” said Hashirama.

“She doesn’t need to know.”

“You’ve been looking at engagement rings for weeks and she doesn’t know?”

Madara frowned at Hashirama.

“How are you going to figure out what size ring to get her? What style? What does she like?”

“You know an awful lot for a man who has never settled down in his life,” said Madara.

“I know what women want,” countered Hashirama. “And they like being involved with big decisions.”

“You have never and will never be in this position,” stated Madara confidently.

“Maybe not,” agreed Hashirama. “But if she’s been with you this long, and she hasn’t brought up marriage herself… is it what she wants?”

Madara glared at Hashirama, the muscles of his jaw working.

“Or is it what you want?” pressed Hashirama.

“This is a waste of time,” said Madara, setting his highball glass down.

“No,” sighed Hashirama, reaching for Madara as he turned to leave. He grabbed Madara’s arm and dragged him back to the bar. “Stop being sensitive and think. And people call you the smart one.”

“You’re ruining both our reputations.”

Hashirama chuckled darkly. “Not the first time,” he said, his voice trailing off.

“You need to be honest with her, ‘dara,” said Hashirama. “And you need to be honest with yourself. Really honest. Facing fear honest.”

Madara and Hashirama faced each other, the rest of the bar fading away.

“When was the last time we shared a woman? Do you miss it? Are you willing to give that up? Do you still have plans for children? You’re not getting younger, but it sounds like your girlfriend doesn’t even want to put that option on the table for discussion until she’s through medical school. Are you willing to wait for her? It could be another ten years. You’ll be what, close to fifty? Do you want to be changing diapers for yourself and the kids?”

Hashirama let go of Madara’s arm.

“Does she know what sort of business you do on the side,” asked Hashirama quietly.

“I don’t handle that anymore, Izuna does,” said Madara calmly.

“But could it come back to you, in the future? Would she look at you differently if she knew? Will it affect her life, everything she’s worked for? She isn’t a trophy wife, Madara, after your money and influence. She’s just as much a professional as you are or I am. Her career is her goal.”

“She would never risk tainting her career,” said Madara finally. “She would never jeopardize her reputation, personal or professional. Until me, she hadn’t even…”

Hashirama studied Madara.

“You feel responsible for her,” said Hashirama.

“I was her first,” muttered Madara. “It’s hard not to feel…” He sighed, his shoulders slumping. He reached for his glass again before putting it back down. He didn’t need alcohol. 

“She sounds very principled,” remarked Hashirama. Part of him wanted to laugh at how hard his friend had fallen for this young woman, something no other woman had ever accomplished. Another part of him was almost envious. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt an emotional connection to someone other than Madara or Tobirama.

“She’s everything to me,” said Madara.

“Really, that’s a stunning revelation,” teased Hashirama, ignoring Madara’s stink-eye. “She’s also at an entirely different stage in her life.”

“Hn,” agreed Madara.

Hashirama got the bartender’s attention and lifted his glass, requesting a refill. He pretended to focus on the barman while Madara stewed and thought his thoughts.

“What is your perfect tomorrow,” asked Hashirama.

Madara watched him, not understanding.

“Your life is perfect tomorrow. What does it have? You and your girlfriend and a baby? Or you and your girlfriend as a doctor?”  
  
“Both,” said Madara immediately.

“You have to choose one,” said Hashirama, trying to get Madara to face what terrified him the most.

Madara’s jaw tightened.

“Now, what would she choose?” asked Hashirama.

The pain was clear in Madara’s eyes, and Hashirama hurt on his friend’s behalf.

“That’s your answer,” said Hashirama, taking a drink from his refilled glass.

“I can wait,” said Madara. He’d waited months for Sakura to be ready before taking her to bed. Things were wonderful between them now, in every way. They’d even spoken about her moving into his home, to help her save money. He could wait.

“This isn’t waiting for your girlfriend to be ready to bed you,” said Hashirama, dry and critical. “This is waiting for your wife to be ready to give up her entire independence. Her life. It becomes a shared life she can’t just say no to for a night because she ‘has a headache’. It’s the ultimate surrender for a woman. She has to walk away from her career, sometimes. Her body changes, her mentality changes, her entire life changes,” insisted Hashirama. He turned away from Madara. “I would never ask that of a woman. It’s awful. If you ask me...” Hashirama’s words trailed off into his drink.

His brow furrowing, Madara looked at Hashirama, a new understanding of his friend gaining a foothold.

“You’ve thought a lot about this for a man who is a perpetual serial-dater,” remarked Madara.

Hashirama snorted.

“Why do you think I’m a ‘perpetual serial-dater’,” snorted Hashirama into his drink. Up on stage his latest girlfriend waved to him excitedly and he waved back with a wide smile. “She’s so happy up there,” he sighed.

“Because you’re afraid of commitment you can’t control,” said Madara.

“Pot, meet kettle,” said Hashirama with a wide smile and a wink.

Madara wanted to argue but couldn’t. 

“Does she know about the album?”  
  
“Yes.”   
  
“And she hasn’t run yet?”

“No.” Madara waited a half beat before adding, “I send her pictures of the cutest ones.”

Hashirama nodded to himself, shaking his head as he laughed. “Then maybe you have a chance.”

Madara looked at Hashirama thoughtfully and seemed to calm.

“Is she into sharing?” asked Hashirama off-handedly.

Madara’s glare was pure poison.

* * *

Sakura let her breath out slowly and quietly as she sat on the floor of Madara’s closet. Inside his office, Madara met with two men who had appeared unexpectedly at reception and demanded an immediate audience with him.

“Don’t make a sound,” Madara had ordered Sakura, quickly ushering her into the walk-in space and draping a jacket over to help conceal her should he need to open the door for any reason. “No matter what you hear.”

Sakura enjoyed the feeling of Madara’s jacket wrapped around her shoulders, his scent surrounding her. She did not enjoy the fact that the meeting had dragged on for almost forty-five minutes. And involved the words, “trade”, “special cargo”, “need to stop for regular breaks” and “the special border patrol”. 

“Thank you,” said one of the male voices as the meeting began to wind down. “Your delegate advised us as such previously. We wanted to double-check. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” said Madara, cool and professional. “Will there be anything else today, gentlemen?”

There wasn’t.  
  
The visitors left and Sakura wondered how much longer she should remain quiet, for she had some very sharp words for Madara.

For his part, Madara waited a full five minutes, returning to work at his desk before even approaching his closet. If the men were to return to his office and see him enter his closet so soon after their meeting, it would raise questions. Also, he wasn’t ready to face Sakura yet.

He waited as long as he could before standing and opening the closet door.

“Sakura?” he called softly. “It’s safe now.”

“No,” came Sakura’s voice from the darkness of the closet. “It isn’t.”

When she came into the light, the disgust and fury on her face were plain, as he’d expected.

“Are you alright?” asked Madara.

Sakura shook with anger.

“I have never been so disappointed in anyone,” seethed Sakura, her voice shaking.

Madara stood before her. It was the conversation he’d been dreading since they became a couple.

“This is not a time for discussion,” said Madara.

“No,” agreed Sakura. “I’m leaving.”  
  
“I’ll see you tonight.”

“No,” said Sakura. “Not tonight. I can’t stand to look at you right now.”

She left, storming out of his office and out a more private employee exit to prevent rumours.

Pressing his lips together, Madara took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and returned to work.

* * *

“Are they worth it?” asked Sakura.

It was a week later and they sat together on a park bench. It had taken Sakura several days to calm down and she still simmered. But she reminded herself that Madara had told her before that he dealt with the worst. He hadn’t lied to her; she just hadn’t accepted how bad ‘the worst’ could be. She had thought so much better of him.

“Worth is relative,” said Madara. “We represent their entire organization. The majority, by far, is legit business.”

Sakura nodded, pressing her lips together. 

“You’re so calm about it,” she said, watching him.

“I’m calm about most things. Composure is important in a courtroom.”

“You’re not usually calm about us,” said Sakura, thinking back to the day he’d burst into her apartment, grabbing her and refusing to let her go. Itachi had teased her about it later, but never said a word in front of anyone else. 

“You’re different,” said Madara softly. His eyes flickered to hers. 

After a moment he turned back to the park, to the wide lawns where parents and their young children played on playground equipment or with a ball in the grass. The tension leaked away from Madara, like a tap releasing pressure. 

“Is it dangerous for us to be together?”

Madara shook his head after a moment. “If we are engaged or married, no. With children, never. Not with those individuals. They know that my silence is what keeps them… in business.”

“Why do you hide me, then?”

Madara turned fully to Sakura.

“Because until we have an official relationship—an engagement, a marriage, a child—they can make up whatever excuse they want to use you against me and the firm,” said Madara evenly. 

“You keep the album of the babies to remind yourself, don’t you,” said Sakura.

On the bench, Madara turned away from Sakura.

“You never tried to settle down because you’re afraid of what you keep out on the street,” continued Sakura, watching the faintest of flickers along Madara’s jawline. “You long for a family of your own. You want someone to come home to who loves you unconditionally and would never judge you for what you’ve done.”

“I want you to be safe,” said Madara quietly. “You are my priority, I need you to be safe. Until you are ready, I need to protect you.”

“Ready?”

Madara swallowed, the prickling fingers of anxiety and uncertainty plucking at his insides.

“Marriage,” said Madara calmly. “This is not the way I’d hoped to bring it up. I intend to ask you to marry me, when you’re ready.” He paused. “You’re not ready yet, so I’m waiting.”

Sakura stilled, her pulse fluttering at her throat. She tried to swallow.

“Why do you say that?”

Madara’s huff was tired. “You’ve never said you loved me.” He rested his arms on his legs and looked at her again. “I love you.”

Pain rose in Sakura’s throat and she felt heat behind her eyes.

“I love you,” she said hoarsely. “I love you so much. But I hate what you did that day.”

“I know,” said Madara, still holding Sakura’s gaze. He didn’t turn away. He didn’t deny it. He was a man who did terrible things. But he held onto those three words she’d spoken first like a drowning man crushing a life preserver to his chest. She had finally said what he needed to hear most of all, and it was the most painful moment of his adulthood.

“Can you stop?” begged Sakura, reaching for him. “Please?”

Her hand touched his and Madara wished to comfort her; but he refused to lie.

“It would fall to someone else to do, then,” he said softly. “And if it was almost anyone else, even more people would be hurt.”

The anger dripped down Sakura’s cheeks as she grit her teeth. “But you’re you! Make them stop! Convince them!”

“I can’t, Sakura. I have… redirected certain of their business activities, but I can’t tell them to stop. And everything you heard is alleged, is that clear?” said Madara sternly, taking Sakura’s hand in his. His eyes were firm, as was his grip. “You need to listen to me, Sakura. You cannot repeat a word of what you heard in that office, ever, to anyone.”

“But they’re—”  
  
“Alleged. And if we say anything to anyone, we’re both dead,” said Madara. “And then neither of us will be able to help those who need it.”

Sobbing with frustration, Sakura reached for her purse to find tissue, but Madara reached for her and pulled her into his arms. She cried on his shoulder, weeping and angry.

“It’s not fair,” she gasped. “I’m so frustrated.”

“Because you have too good a heart,” praised Madara, rubbing her back. He pulled Sakura into his lap, holding her to him as her emotions spent all over his expensive suit jacket. He let out a soft breath as Sakura wept. He closed his eyes. They were quiet for a long time together on the bench, even after the families carried their young ones home and darkness began to fall around them.

“I love you,” repeated Sakura, eventually pulling back from Madara to look into his eyes.

He smiled. It was one of his rare, pure smiles, just for her.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I don’t want to agree to an engagement if I’m not ready for the marriage,” said Sakura honestly.

“I know.”

They were quiet as the birdcalls quieted and the night insects began to chirp from the copse of trees behind them.

“Don’t start crying again,” said Madara gruffly. 

“It’s not on purpose,” argued Sakura, sniffling.

He sighed, rubbing her back and shoulders. “I love you, Sakura. I don’t want you to live in fear.”

“Or anger,” added Sakura quietly.

Madara acknowledged her with a nod. “It isn’t fair to you.”

Sakura nodded, swallowing audibly.

“I don’t want you to look over your shoulder on your way to class, or work, for the next five to ten years,” said Madara. “I am willing to wait for you. Until you are ready.”

Pressing her lips together, Sakura forced the heat back away from her eyes again, understanding where Madara was going.

“Now is a dangerous time, though,” she said thickly.

Madara took a deep breath and waited a moment before letting it out slowly.

“It always will be, to some extent,” he admitted. “But moreso for you, right now, than me. I am not proposing under duress,” he said drily, and Sakura laughed.

“I wouldn’t want to agree under duress,” replied Sakura, squeezing his hand. She lifted a hand to Madara’s cheek. “I want to agree with enthusiasm.”

Madara’s eyes burned as it was his turn to clear his throat.

“I love you, Sakura,” said Madara a final time.

“I love you, you silly man,” said Sakura.

As the sun set around them, Sakura kissed Madara goodbye.


	3. Dangly Bits

“Hey! Long time no see,” greeted Hashirama several weeks later, clapping Madara on the back.

“Hn,” said Madara, meeting Hashirama just outside Madara’s office building. 

It was a late meeting, as usual. They began their walk to the Chinese karaoke bar. “It’s been busy.”

“Really? I thought Izuna was handling things more independently now. Tobirama’s complaining about him being just as much of a pain in the ass as you in front of the bench these days.”

Madara sniffed in amusement. _Good._

They walked for several minutes, Hashirama babbling on about this, that and the other. As they walked, they passed by one of the entrances into a public garden. It opened up into a park, one familiar to Madara. His pace slowed as he half-turned toward it, noting the families leaving in their pull-wagons and strollers.

“Hm?” Hashirama paused, already several feet ahead. “What is it?”

But Madara just stared, his jaw tight.

“So you think Tobirama and Izuna will have a nice rivalry?,” asked Hashirama out of the blue, not-so-subtly changing course and walking into the park. “It’s a shame you never went into medicine, you and I could have debated all kinds of things!”

“You’re a lousy debater,” said Madara, following Hashirama into the park without question.

Hashirama waved off his complaint.

“I hope you trained Izuna well, because Tobirama can be pretty strategic in his arguments,” warn-bragged Hashirama, walking further and further into the park. He made for one of the trails that led by the playground. “Hey, when’s the last time you were on a swing?”

“I am not dignifying that with a response.”  
  
“Race you to the big ones!”

“I am not—you’re being—” Madara swore, making a grab for Hashirama who laughed as Madara tried not to run after him to yank him off the swingset. Running was undignified, after all.

“Wheeeeeee! Give me a push, Madara!”

Rubbing at his temple, Madara growled to himself, “Right off a ledge.” Looking up at Hashirama, he yelled, “You’re a walking embarrassment!”

Hashirama laughed. “You mean swinging embarrassment! Wait, no, I mean—”  
  
“You’re a serial failure! Get down!” yelled Madara in exasperation. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

Turning to the side and wondering if he could shove Hashirama off the swing without potentially breaking his arm, Madara noted the colours blending together in the sky in the beautiful sunset.

For a brief moment, his heart swelled with emotion and he was back on the bench with Sakura, kissing her goodbye. But it wasn’t goodbye, it was welcome home, and I missed you, and stay with me, and I’m changing, please give me time to become a better man.

The loudest of all, I love you with everything inside me.

All the words he couldn’t say.

“—ember when we were kids and used to do this all the time!” babbled Hashirama, glancing over at Madara again.

That blank look, the lost, numb one, that Madara used to wear when they went out was back. There was a fresh sadness to Madara’s dark eyes, now, though. And the pale sallow tones of his skin had replaced the healthy glow he’d sported for over a year. 

Hashirama watched as Madara stared at a park bench that faded with the sun going down, slowly being consumed by shadows. When Madara kept staring, even as darkness fell, Hashirama understood that his friend was not seeing what was; he was holding fast to what had been.

The overwork. The quick temper. The distant gaze.

Hashirama’s expression softened.

Leaping off the swings with the nimbleness of a man a quarter his age, Hashirama raced for the slide. “I call dibs!”

The sudden movement distracted Madara from whatever had been troubling him, as Hashirama had intended. Hashirama ignored Madara’s eyes widening as he climbed up the tall stairs beside the twisty-slide.

“Hahaha! Watch this!” called Hashirama to Madara. “You remember when we used to slide down these face-first—ack!”

There was a thump, then a tearing feeling in Hashirama’s leg and trousers, and suddenly… he was stuck. Adding insult to injury, his hands fumbled when he reached for his phone and the device slid down the twisty tunneled slide as he tried to grab for it. A buzzing sound echoed up through the plastic tunnel.

“Nooooo!” wailed Hashirama.

There was silence from outside the tunnel. 

“Madara, I’m stuck!” called Hashirama. “And I dropped my phone. Also, I think my trousers are torn and my leg is hurt.”

There was a low sigh from outside the tunnel. The buzzing continued; in fact, it seemed to be getting louder. Had Madara picked up his phone?

“Did you not see the “Under Repair” sign chained to the stairs?” drawled Madara. 

“That sign is just for the children,” said Hashirama. “They could be hurt.”

Madara was silent for a long, judgemental minute.

“There’s also a WARNING: Active Wasp Activity Site sign on the other side,” remarked Madara.

“Oh, well good thing they aren’t…”

The low buzzing got louder.

“You… don’t have my phone by any chance, do you?” asked Hashirama.

“No.”

Hashirama swallowed, trying to inch himself backward. His leg screamed in pain. Also, his shoulders were definitely quite stuck. Sweat broke out across his forehead. Inside the tunnel, he was blind. His body blocked out any light from above, and the plastic was dense, not allowing him the slightest clue as to what was happening outside.  
  
“Could you try to pull me out?”

“I’m not climbing up there.”

“Please?”

“No.”  
  
“Could you call Tobirama for me? Tell him, ‘Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up’ and that it’s from me.”

To his surprise, Hashirama thought he heard Madara snort.

“Are you laughing at me?” demanded Hashirama, wounded.

“Your pants are torn in half and your arse is bare to the stars,” chuckled Madara.

“Then cover it up!”

“I’m not putting my good jacket on your arse.”

“Then get help!”

“I texted Tobirama.”

Hashirama sighed with relief.

“He said he’s busy,” said Madara a moment later.

“Then get me other help!”

“Do you expect me to get a toolbox and undo these… bolts?” asked Madara drily.

“Call the fire department! Ow. Quickly.”

“Hold on, I’m already on the line… Yes… Yes, I’d like to report an act of gross stupidity… Yes… Yes, he did… Yes… The park around the corner from Uchiha and Uchiha… Yes… The red twisty-slide at the playground… Yes… No, I’d really rather not; may I send you a video, I don’t want to see his bare arse again… I suppose you could sell it again afterward—”  
  
“No one is selling video footage of my ass!”

“Oh, he declined the offer… Yes… Yes, he’ll be here… Thank you.”

Ther playground went quiet again after Madara hung up, punctuated by the low buzzing and Hashirama’s yelped “ow!”-s. 

“Are you feeling—ow!—better?” asked Hashirama from inside the now-dark tunnel. The wasps hadn’t found him yet, but the mosquitos sure had. His backside was going to be polkadotted by the end of the night.

Silence.

“Madara?” called Hashirama, a bad feeling rising in his gut. “Hello?...”

He was alone.

* * *

Alone in her apartment, Sakura glanced up at the local news on the television. She reached for the remote, turning up the volume.

"What the..." Sakura murmured to herself.

“... and in other news, emergency crews were called to Fair Acres Park this evening to remove a grown man who had become stuck in a slide that was under repair.”

In the background of the reporter’s shot, a crane lifted a segment of red plastic tube away from the rest of the tube, a man’s pair of naked legs hanging out the end. Sakura stared in shock as the tube swayed when the man suddenly yelped, and the footage was hastily censored to prevent the viewers getting an eyeful of his dangly bits.

“Ow! Ow! The wasps! They’re going for my—”

The man’s next words were screamed in pain and censored with a long series of beeps that had Sakura’s brows raising.

The “Do Not Climb”, “Unsafe”, “Children Must Be Supervised At All Times”, “Under Repair” and various other signs were scattered around the vicinity, making it obvious that this had been the result of a significant lapse in judgment.

“The man is expected to make a full recovery,” relayed the reporter. “It is unclear at this time if charges will be laid. Back to you…”

Dumbstruck, Sakura shook her head.

“What an idiot,” she murmured to herself, turning the volume down again and going back to her supper.

* * *

**(THE END -- Up next, the Izuna/Sakura... That will be posted separately)**


End file.
